Monty Python and the SGC
by technetium
Summary: We have found a Goa'uld. May we burn her?


Title: Monty Python and the SGC

Author: Technetium

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Fifth Commandment, Tok'ra Part 2, heck, pretty much everything pre-Heros for Stargate; Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Category: Humor/Parody.

Warnings: Minor character death.

Minor character: I'm not dead!

Author: Yes you are, you'll be stone cold in a minute.

Minor character: I don't want to go in the cart! I feel happy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate or Monty Python, but I do have a Black Knight Halloween costume. I also don't own Star Trek, Star Wars, Discworld or Nike.

* * *

Jacob Carter found himself under an alien sky observing a rather scared woman with huge . . . 'tracts of land' being surrounded by a torch and pitchfork-wielding mob. Upon closer inspection, the mob seemed to be quite a diverse bunch, consisting of numerous humans, in native attire and military uniforms, a few Asgard, several Jaffa, various other aliens, and strangely enough, a group of Ewoks. 

"We have found a Goa'uld! May we burn her, sir?" asked the crowd's leader, a man who looked suspiciously like . . . Sergeant Siler?

"Burn her!" "Buurrnn!" Several voices in the crowd took up the call, including, most disturbingly, a Nox.

"Now, calm down just a minute, son," commanded General Hammond, clad in Air Force dress blues and a cowboy hat. "How do you know she is a Goa'uld?"

"She looks like one!" accused Janet Fraiser.

"Yeah, Burn! Buurn her! Buurrn!" The crowd supported her.

"Bring her forward," ordered Hammond.

"I'm not a Goa'uld, I'm not a Goa'uld. I'm a Tok'ra!" claimed the victim, who was in fact Anise/Freya, as she was dragged in front of the General.

_Sel, do you think we should help her?_

_You do remember what happened when she spiked the punch last Egeria day, right?_

_Good point._ Jacob contented himself with watching.

"But you are dressed as one," commented Hammond, pointing out her sparkly jewelry and gaudy, low-cut outfit.

"I was on an infiltration mission. I had to dress like this!"

The crowd disagreed. "Yeah, sure, you betcha! Burn! A likely story! Pull the other one!"

"What about the horns and the sign?" In addition to her outfit, Anise modeled a pair of plastic horns and a piece of cardboard tied on a string around her neck, proclaiming in purple crayon "Kick me, I'm a stupid Goa'uld."

"They dressed me up like this!" Anise blamed the crowd.

"No! No! We didn't! No!"

"You mustn't do this, she is a goddess," stammered a Jaffa with a golden Nike swoosh on his forehead.

"This isn't your God, it is a false one." Bra'tac slapped the Jaffa upside the head.

"Help," cried the Jaffa, "Help, I'm being repressed!" He searched the crowd for sympathy. "You saw him repressing me." Teal'c gave him a smug, 'welcome-to-my-world, sucks-to-be-you' expression, but no one else reacted before Bra'tac zatted the zealous Jaffa. The Jaffa collapsed, but was still able to weakly proclaim, "Now you see the violence inherent in the system!"

The mob turned their attention back toward George as he questioned them. "Well?"

"Well, we did do the horns," admitted Jack O'Neill's teenage clone.

"The horns?"

"And the sign," confessed Cassandra Fraiser. "But she is a Goa'uld!"

"Yeah! Buurn! Burn her! Burn!"

"Did you do this as well?" asked Hammond, indicating Anise's hand device made out of aluminum foil.

"No!" Several members of the mob proclaimed their innocence. "No! No no! No! No! Yes. Yes. A bit. A bit. She has got glowing eyes!"

"What makes you think she is a Goa'uld?" Hammond was starting to get mighty tired of this.

"Well, she turned me into an insubordinate, hotheaded, armband-wearing superhero with a taste for steak!" The crowd turned to stare at Jack O'Neill.

"I got better," he mumbled. They stared harder, in disbelief. "Oh, for crying out loud! The armband fell off, didn't it?"

"Burn her anyway! Burn! Buurn!"

"Quiet!" roared Hammond. "There are ways of telling whether she is a Goa'uld."

"Are there? There are? What are they? Tell us! Yeah! Do they hurt? Do any of them involve big honkin' needles?" Several airmen stepped away from Doc Fraiser as she contributed the last comment.

"Tell me," continued Hammond, "what do you do with Goa'ulds?"

"Buurn! Burn! Burn them! Burn!"

"And what do you burn apart from Goa'ulds?"

"More Goa'ulds!"

"Kinsey in effigy!"

"Precious artifacts when Daniel isn't looking." Daniel managed to pull off an expression conveying equal parts kicked-puppy, blatant disbelief and suppressing the urge to kill.

"I'm kidding," Jack assured his friend. When Daniel turned his back, Jack leaned over to Ferretti and whispered. "The ones from P3X-595 make this really awesome smoke."

"Whatever the voices in my head tell me to burn!" Everyone looked over to find Jonas. Not the smirking, weather-channel-loving Kelownan. The other one.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Jack asked the former special ops soldier who was currently a few fries short of a happy meal.

"Aw, you never let me have any fun." Jonas threw his feathered cape over one shoulder, kissed a Wookie, performed the motions to "I'm a Little Teapot" (an impressive thing now that he only had one arm, thanks to said Wookie), and then disappeared into thin air with a shout of "Millennium hand and shrimp!"

"Naquadah bombs!" Sam Carter, equally distressed by her psychotic ex's appearance and her commanding officer's 'I am going to make everyone scrub the gateroom with a toothbrush' expression, blurted out the most comforting thing she could think of.

"Carter, bombs don't burn, they explode," challenged O'Neill.

"Yes, sir, but there are some similarities. In a fire, burning is really just the process by which the chemical energy stored in the material being burned is transformed into heat energy, and an explosion is also just the release of energy in another form. It's just that in a naquadah bomb, there is a significant increase in the amount of energy output because you're breaking the atomic bonds in naquadah, and according to Einstein's law-"

"Gah! Ok, fine, you win! Close enough!"

George continued. "So why do Goa'ulds explode and/or burn?"

"Because they're made of naquadah?" ventured Daniel.

"Good!" Hammond congratulated him. "So how do we tell whether she is made of naquadah?"

"Build a hyperdrive out of her!" Sam was in her element now.

"Ah," interrupted Thor, "but can you not also make hyperdrives out of mættír?"

"Really? What's that? How?" Sam's eyes lit up. Well, they didn't literally light up, because she wasn't the Goa'uld here. Or at least not lately. So more accurately, Sam's eyes widened in an expression indicating extreme enthusiasm.

"Could you not make a Stargate out of her?" suggested Teal'c.

"But remember, son, apparently, you can also do that with toasters. At least, some of us can," he said, looking pointedly at the glowing Ancient called Orlin.

"You're too young, etcetera, etcetera," stated Orlin.

"You really built a Stargate out of toasters?" Oma Desala questioned him.

"No, don't be ridiculous," Orlin replied. "I bought a Stargate on Ebay and told them I built it out of toasters."

"Good thinking. If we keep them in awe, they'll never figure out we're just humans with advanced flashlight-fog machines."

"You know," started Skarra, "one of these days they're going to find out and be royally ticked off."

"Shh! Newbies don't talk, they hold flashlights!"

"Tell me," George addressed the crowd, "Does naquadah float in water?"

After thinking about it for a while, the crowd shouted, "No, no, it sinks! It sinks!"

"What also sinks in water?"

"Pillows!"

"Marshmallows!"

"Beer"

"Very small rocks!"

"For the last time, Jack, they're artifacts, not rocks!"

"Helium! Helium!"

"Bananas!" from Jonas - Quinn this time.

"Vanilla Ice's career!"

"The Iraqi Air Force!"

"My hope for humanity," contributed Thor.

"Anything with a specific gravity greater than 1!" shouted Samantha.

"Siler's wrench!" shouted Walter Davis-Harriman.

"So that's who stole it!" exclaimed Siler. "I'll get you for this, Walter. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberries!"

Jacob/Selmak decided to intervene. "A Stargate."

"Exactly!" Hammond seemed pleased.

"So logically . . ." started Sam.

"If . . . she . . . weighs the same as a Stargate, she's made of naquadah . . ." Daniel put the words together, but he didn't seem all that sure of their validity.

"And therefore . . ." prompted Hammond.

"A Goa'uld! A Goa'uld!" the crowd followed the bizarre 'logic.'

Everybody ran to the Stargate, passing Narim and Martouf/Lantesh along the way. The two aliens paid the violent mob no attention, as they were deeply involved in a conversation about Sam's cat.

"I think he's cute," proclaimed Martouf.

"Cute! This here's the most foul, cruel and ill-tempered feline you ever laid eyes on! "Oh, Schroedinger is just a cat. I'd be happy to take care of him and prove it."

"Very well. But beware! For death awaits you, with nasty, big, pointy teeth!"

Once the bloodthirsty crowd reached the Stargate, Paul Davis organized the setup of a pulley system, with the Stargate on one end and a very angry and confused Anise/Freya on the other. The Stargate was significantly heavier. The crowd was about to grudgingly release the Tok'ra when the chevrons lit up. Unfortunately, no one noticed because Siler and Walter were currently knocking each other senseless and being cheered on by the Ewoks while Ferretti and Maybourne organized a betting pool. The wormhole plume vaporized Anise/Freya along with an unfortunate red-shirted ensign who had just beamed down from the _Enterprise_ in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The crowd started to disperse, very disappointed except for a few Unas who had been convinced by the Nike Jaffa to find a new planet and organize their very own an anarcho-communist coconut farm community.

"Tell me," Hammond addressed Jacob, "who are you who are so wise in the way of science?" Jacob's eyes flashed.

"I am Selmak of the Tok'ra, oldest and wisest of all symbiotes."

The landscape began to fade faster than a swallow carrying a coconut. That would be an Earth swallow, of course, as Abydonian swallows are non-migratory.

_Sel, you have the strangest dreams. I think you need therapy._

_Hey, don't blame me. Too much exposure to Tau'ri culture will warp any impressionable young symbiote._

_You're the one who wanted to watch it in the first place._ They had been on Earth visiting Sam when Selmak mentioned that she wanted to experience this "Monty Python" of which Jacob had fleeting memories. Teal'c had expressed confusion, so Sam had invited them and the rest of SG-1 to her place for a movie night. Daniel had explained bits of medieval culture in between laughter, and O'Neill had joked about bringing a holy hand grenade on the next mission. _Besides, if you're an impressionable young symbiote, I'm the Queen of England._

_Well, you do look good in a Tiara._

_I thought we agreed never to speak of that again._

_The next time we're posing as a Goa'uld, we should give our Jaffa coconuts to bang together as they follow us._

_Goodnight, Sel._

_Goodnight, Jacob._

And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

Author's Notes: Ok, you know I had to combine Stargate and Monty Python sooner or later. I think I need help. Ni! Ni! You must give me . . . a review! One that looks nice. But not too much of a flame. I shall say "Ni!" to you, if you do not appease me! Now, go! Points go to anyone who spots the Pratchett reference. A transcript of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" can be found at www . sacred-texts . com / neu / mphg / mphg . htm 

If you're wondering, mættír is the old Norse word for power, according to www . hi . is / haukurth / norse / olessons / lessons . html. I couldn't find a canon reference for what the Asgard use for their hyperdrives.

"To the Stargate!"

"The Stargate!"

"The Stargate!"

"It's only a model."

"On second thought, let's not go to the SGC. It is a silly place."


End file.
